Thorgil leaves the king's hall with a satisfied smile. He made a handsome sight, fine red and gold tunic going down to his knees, long black silver-clasped cloak hanging on his shoulders and his beloved sword resting in its scabbard at his side. Along with a group of other veterans he had just been honored and rewarded in gold and silver by King Sweyn. Now he was at a crossroads, would he go visit his father and brother at the farm, join onto some ship going east or west hoping for more glory and combat, perhaps lead his own ships, wait to see if Sweyn would send his longships out on campaign or would something or someone keep him at the king's hold?
In the courtyard outside the hall, guarded by the walls of the king's hold, there was bustling activity. Merchants, petitioners, soldiers, old comrades, noblemen, sycophants, farmers, servants and slaves crowded the area. Off to the side, there was an opening in the crowd and the clash of steel could be heard. The prince was fighting a practice duel with the king's weaponmaster, attracting a crowd of onlookers, including other members of the royal family.
Among the crowd surrounding the duel, Thorgil spots {{user}}